Simply Biological
by Kiski
Summary: Seto Kaiba is growing increasingly uneasy. Things are going missing in Kaiba Corp., and all of them seem to be related. Not only that, but strange things are going down in Domino. VERY strange things. Ancient Thief Akefia x Kaiba, Ryou x Bakura
1. Chapter 1

_**Kiski's Note To Readers:** I'm bored. And crazy. And a biology student. Fear me? Excuse this chapter, by the way. It may be a little slow, but it'll definitely pick up- the ball has to be pushed a little before it'll get rolling, you know!_

_THERE WILL BE MORE DIALOGUE NEXT CHAPTER!_

_**Summary: **Seto Kaiba is growing increasingly uneasy.Things are going missing in Kaiba Corp., and all of them seem to be related. Not only that, but strange things are going down in Domino. VERY strange things. Ancient Thief Bakura x Seto Kaiba, Ryou Bakura x Yami No Bakura_

_**Rating: **Teen, because it's unlikely it'll go beyond that. But there will be perversion, creepiness, violence, anger/hate, angst... etc.. Don't ask me, I don't know._

_I'm just writing it._

_**Disclaimer: **If I owned it, it would've been so frighteningly morbid they wouldn't have released it in North America. Amen._

'_...' - Thinking_

"..."_ - Speaking_

_**Simply Biological**_

_**KiskiMee**_

_**Chapter One**_

Seto Kaiba was extremely perturbed. The figures weren't matching up. The figures _always_ matched up.

There was a grand total of three hundred _thousand_ dollars missing from various Kaiba Corporation accounts over the course of the past two years, as well as several missing pieces of the corporation's newest and most profitable prototypes- all of them in the virtual reality sectors.

More specifically, the sections that specialized in human sensory control.

And the figures weren't matching up. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed before. It was a _massive_ gap. But this year he had had the computers doing the checking, with orders to report anything over a two-hundred dollar discrepancy in any one department in a month. Goof-ups happened. It was part of owning a company- somebody forgets to log a blown fuse on a new prototype and goes and buys a new one and the whole company gets thrown up in an uproar.

But this wasn't- _couldn't be_- a coincidence. For one thing, he didn't believe in such things. For another, _exactly_ two hundred dollars was missing from every affected sector. Not a cent out of place, he thought coldly, deep unease stirring in his stomach.

He clicked through the purchase logs and the withdrawals, growing more and more uneasy and irritable. No, nobody had bought new parts. No, nobody had decided to slip out for a quick expensive lunch and hope that they got away with it. No, nobody had withdrawn two hundred dollars to help funding in another section and forgotten to log it. Why? Because it wasn't in another sector.

It had simply disappeared. Just like the machines. He spread his hands out on the desk and stared at the computer screen, willing it to correct itself or disappear and leave him alone. This was ridiculous. Nobody had access to monetary resources and prototype storage rooms except himself and the project leaders.

And that gave him a total of sixty-two suspects, discounting a sudden dual personality with strange ambitions or a truly world-class hacker with the luck of the devil himself. The whole mess was giving him a headache.

He jammed his hands into his hair and stifled an angry scream behind his teeth.

'_It doesn't make sense!'_

_(Simply Biological)_

It was dark, but warm. And wet.

And it _hurt_.

Akefia tried to growl through the slow wetness that seemed to engulf him, but found that sound seemed to be impossible. He opened his eyes and discovered no difference in his perception. It was blindingly dark. Panic rose sluggishly in his mind. Had the Atemu, that cruel, sadistic tyrant sitting atop a golden throne while he wallowed in the streets, blinded him? Was he dead? He realized he couldn't feel the cold, comforting weight of the Sennen Ring against his chest, and felt the panic he had suppressed explode.

He thrashed, pulling hands towards his chest, feeling the heavy resistance of the liquid slow them, feeling a slow tearing out his skin around the inside of his left elbow. His legs felt heavy, useless. And his chest was mind-breakingly bare. In fact, his whole body was.

And his mind seemed not to work, he thought angrily. Everything was dreamy, seeming to insist calmness and a vegetative state. He came to the enraged conclusion that the bastard had drugged him, and, perhaps, blinded him.

And taken the ring.

It _hurt_ without the ring. The ring would fix everything. The ring would make him strong again.

He felt his arm cramp, and pulled it towards him, fingers feeling around the needle stuck fast in the tender flesh. The black world began to disappear.

'_...Kill you...'_ he thought, and fell unconscious.

_(Simply Biological)_

Yami no Bakura didn't like where this conversation was going.

"What do you mean, a _clone_?" he scoffed uneasily, glowering Ryou, who was chewing his lip nervously. Ryou clasped his papers closer to his chest and took a deep breath.

"Yami," he said firmly, setting his jaw, "theoretically speaking, there is no such thing as a soul. The human psyche is contained in the brain," he said, trailing off as his Yami's jaw clenched and his posture grew belligerent.

"And what does that make me? I came from the Sennen Ring, ne? That's not a brain! So what does that make ME?"

Ryou sighed as Bakura crossed his arms and glared at him through narrowed brown eyes. "A copy, Bakura-sama," he explained gently.

"Are you saying I'm fake?!"

"No, Bakura-sama, I'm saying that you're a copy- not the original, just exactly the same. When a cell splits using mitos-"

Bakura jumped to his feet. "Don't try and confuse me with those fancy words of yours, yodunshi!" he growled. "I know what you're saying! You're saying I'm not the _real_ King Of Thieves! That I'm a fake!" He stamped his foot and bared his teeth chillingly, eyes narrowed. "Don't think I can't hurt you anymore simply because I'm confined to this flesh-bag, hikari," he snarled. "I _am_ the King Of Thieves. I _am_ who I was born, and no one else. I remember everything I have ever done! I remember my life! If I was a creation, I- I-"

Ryou curled around his notes, face waxy and pupils small. He had feared his Yami would react this way. But it was better that Bakura hear it from him, instead of someone else. No matter what he said, he wouldn't hurt him. In his own strange way, Bakura had a twisted sort of respect for the delicately resilient human who struggled so uncomplainingly through the hardships he had inflicted on him. Ryou knew that. But it didn't quell the deep-seated fear that was epitomized so clearly by the large circular scar on his palm. Bakura did stupid things when he couldn't get his way. He was like a very spoiled, yet very dangerous, child.

Ryou waited patiently for his other half's ranting to subside. Biology had been good to him- he even looked different then he had two years before, beyond the last passing of youthful baby fat- he looked wiser, more alive, like he'd found something to inspire him. And, in a way, he had. The fascinations of Biology and Chemistry had filled him with speculative 'what-if's- the same sort that had led him to his latest conclusion about the Sennen Items. And earned him a scholarship to a very prestigious university.

He smiled a little, stomach fluttering at the thought. He would finally be free- he would _finally_ be able to pursue something he wanted. Without having to cater to someone's else's wants and needs.

The thought hit him out of the nowhere and made him slightly nervous. He hadn't been completely alone and independent since he was... what? Eight? He closed his eyes, nervous and excited.

Bakura had finally quieted down, he realized, and he opened his eyes to see the older boy- _'Is he a boy or a man?'_ Ryou wondered thoughtfully. After all, he was thousands of years old- staring down his long, pale nose at him. Ryou examined his Yami's features for what seemed like the first time, though he knew he had done it hundreds- no, thousands- of times before. The other boy's face, so like his own, yet so unlike.

When it came down to raw bone structure, they were identical, he knew, tracing his eyes down that so-familiar jaw. But they held themselves differently. Bakura had a tendency to look taller, because he carried himself with an arrogance and intensity that seemed to amplify everything about him; he was different, Ryou thought musingly, quietly examining. He tended to, well, slouch. To look smaller, shorter, more vulnerable. There were so many differences that showed through carriage, he realized. Especially in their faces. The set of the lips, the haughty arch of his thin eyebrows his Yami affected, and the way he narrowed his eyes and set his jaw slightly to the side so it looked harder then it actually was; Ryou smiled inwardly. Everything about the other boy looked more powerful, while in reality, if both underwent surgery, they would be identical.

Scars and all.

He smiled a little, looking down. Bakura stiffened suspiciously, and crossed his arms. "What are you smiling about?"

"Nothing, Yami-sama."

Bakura felt put out. There was obviously something going on in Ryou's head he was unaware of.

In a spontaneous moment of total resolve, he decided to discover it.

Whatever the means.

_(Simply Biological)_

He scrubbed his scalp angrily. It had been two days. _Two precious days_. And still, he was facing what looked increasingly like something out of _The Outer Limits_, which he had always found rather intriguing but incredibly unlikely. He resisted the urge to bash his forehead on the desk.

It was still gone. He had called the banks. No, no large deposits had been made. He had called the investigators. No, they had been unable to find any physical evidence pointing to break-ins, nor had they found anything on the security tapes that pointed even vaguely to a particular person. He had called the hackers. No, there was no electronic paper trail. All of the withdrawals had occurred here from various different, very legitimate terminals that were open to _all_ of the higher clearance staff.

There wasn't a single person in those sixty-two that could be discounted or put under more scrutiny than another. Of course, suspicion had to lean towards the

virtual reality developers, because of the nature of the missing equipment, but he didn't feel that was the answer.

Quite frankly, the whole business stank. Because everything was _too_ perfect. And he felt that someone who had taken such incredible pains to remain unfound would also keep themself out of active suspicion- or, believe that he would think as such, put him or herself _into_ passive suspicion, to incur the reverse effect. And elaborating on that, he thought pessimistically, whatever they were doing obviously wasn't of a terribly legal nature.

Or of a terribly ethical one, considering the nature of the machine.

'_Crackpot scientists,'_ he snarled inwardly. _'All of them.'_

He rose from his seat and stalked out of his office, hands shoved into pockets and eyes on the floor. He brooded. There had to be some connection- some little, unnoticed detail. Which of them had the best in terms of computer programming? Mistushi, of course, but something of this scale could hardly have been less then the effort of a group of people. And who was the most charismatic when it came to large groups? Well, that was inane, since it could easily be a person of lower employment leading this escapade. Not that that was likely.

He halted in the middle of the hall, staring blindly at an empty coffee cup between the rows of cubicles, the last amber drops hovering on the edge above the coarse grey carpet.

All of Kaiba Corporation's project leaders were picked not only for their talent, but for their competence with getting people to do what they wanted, how they wanted. It was the only effective way to make large groups of slightly eccentric and highly talented people work together. Meaning that the perpetrator would be among the most charismatic of the project leaders, and the most ambitious and interested in thing involving human neurological study.

Everything fell perfectly into place, forming a chilling and highly volatile picture in his mind.

Kaiba's lips drew back from his teeth in a very hostile, primal grin that sent the one lonely engineer at the copy machine scuttling back a few paces. He paid it no mind. He knew his target.

He snorted heavily through his nose. "Only you, you cunt." He growled softly under his breath. "Only you."

_(Simply Biological)_

Akefia was growing bored. Even the pain couldn't entertain him anymore, and though he felt as though his stomach his stomach had swallowed itself, even that had ceased to amuse him after the first three hours. But what he really couldn't take was the bodily silence. He could hear _nothing_, see _nothing_, say _nothing_. It made the Shadow Realm seem like a paradise. Even the hot Egyptians sands, with its battles full of blood and the screams of horses and the ringing silver of metal on metal and metal on bone, seemed like an oasis in this lukewarm prison.

He had felt around, and found that was the only thing that seemed to work, and even then, only semi-well. He could feel that all around him was smooth and rounded, and that it all seemed to go up and down endlessly- or, at least, beyond the reach of his long legs or arms. It was close, though- he couldn't stretch his arms out side-to-side beyond a ninety-degree bend at the elbow. And the needle ached. He had once attempted to take it out, but it was bound tightly to his arm by something even he couldn't tear loose.

And so he drifted in and out of wakefulness, breathing deep, thick breaths and waiting for something to happen. And, finally, something happen.

At first, he wasn't sure he heard it- it was a tiny noise in his prison, a small flare of deep, resonant sound. Though he knew there was no need, he froze on hearing it, straining against the quiet eagerly.

And it happened again. Louder. Angrier. And full of almost palpable rage. His body sang with it, and he scrabbled at the walls of his cell, eager and unaware as an unborn child, heart racing with sluggish suspicion and weary hope and excitement.

And then the world filled with light.

It burned at his eyes so abruptly that he yanked his arms up through the sludge to cover them, but even closed, he saw nothing but white. And things were changing, too- rapidly. Suddenly he could hear the scrape of metal on glass, the mutter of low voices, and, above all, the loud, resonant purr of one voice. A thought came to him. Was this his judgement from the heavens for disobeying their chosen ruler?

He uneasily pushed that aside as nonsense. The Gods would not take notice of one lowly mortal. Ah, but the King Of Thieves... perhaps, he realized. Feeling his stomach turn, he cracked his eye open again as the whiteness receded. The voices had muted, but the one still remained prevalent in his mind. That one, powerful voice. It was a voice of Authority, he thought, quelling his fear with anger. Akefia didn't like Authority.

He wondered briefly if it was the voice of Osiris, come to judge him, with Anubis at his side; or perhaps Set, amusing himself with another trifling mortal being. The white-haired male decided that if he could avoid finding out, he would.

Curiousity was not worth satiating if it meant suffering and doom.

Finally, he could see. There was a being beyond the hard, clear walls of his cell, and it held itself as a God would, he thought. He recognized, through the muted sounds, that it was the owner of the deep, resonant rumble that felt so good in his newly singing ears. The voice of Authority.

He blinked against the light, startled. It was so... small. It was true. The being beyond the glass was whisper-thin, tall, and nothing but a dark, tiny silhouette against the light. But how could something so powerful come from someone so small?

His anger subsided reluctantly as he stared, pupils tiny against the glare, at the figure. It stood with a familiar arrogance, he thought curiously, and it seemed to believe it was much larger then it's size. Akefia briefly considered overpowering it physically, then dismissed that notion. If it acted as though it was larger then the other figures, it obviously had access to something they did not. The Pharaoh stood like that, and he had been even smaller.

But the Pharaoh was arrogant, he brooded. The Pharaoh believed he held even more power then he did. So, perhaps...?

Abruptly, things began to become cold. He withdrew into himself, shivering in suspension. And then his world began to tip sideways, and he yowled soundlessly in protest, alarmed. The figure loomed, a bare, slender frame, above his cell as it shifted into the horizontal position.

Akefia was terrified. Obviously they had finally come to a conclusion. He was being judged by this slender thing that wielded so much power and had no face, backed by so many others that seemed to grey in the light while it simply seemed yet more palpable. For the first time since early childhood, he felt the need to cower, and that filled him with hate.

And then the world began to settle, and he was dragged towards the bitterly cold wall of his cell that was now 'down'. Cold air struck his face as the liquid in which he had been suspended poured out above his head, and he coughed and retched in the air, assaulted by nausea and dizziness. Sounds crispened to crystal clarity, and suddenly, the world was painfully loud and he wished vainly for his black, calm prison. He groaned, and pulled heavy arms over his head.

Warm hands pulled at his shoulders, and after a little painful tugging, the constant prick of the needle was gone from his arm. He slid forth into the world into something soft and engulfing, staring balefully up at his figure of Authority. It stared down at him with narrow blue eyes and pale skin, and he tried to spit at it, but ended up vomiting fluid on the floor.

_(Simply Biological)_

Seto Kaiba exclaimed in disgust at the incompetence of his employees. "What, are you stupid? Get it to the hospital unit- no one will stop you, you idiots, they've all been arrested," he snapped restively, suppressing the thought that this being was obviously- and magnificently- male, without a shadow of a doubt. He stared down at is it coughed up the last of the fluid in its lungs, massive body rippling with muscle. Nervousness churned his stomach.

If this creature had been in the Tank for two years, its body muscle must've atrophied intensely, yet it was like something out of Mary Shelley's _The Modern Prometheus_- Frankenstein's monster, perhaps. Estimating quickly, he concluded that it was at least twice his weight, and quite surely taller. His lips tightened uneasily. He himself was six feet, four inches, when last measured. That would make this beast of a man possessing of the bone structure of some sort of fairytale Viking. Odin, God of thunder, maybe, he thought, watching the four of them dragging the heavy giant away.

But, God, who _was_ it? Why this particular monster? Did Takashi simply have some sort of superiority complex that inspired him to chose the biggest, worst thing he could?

Seto stalked around the room, searching idly for a place start and deciding on the small desk in the far corner. On top of it their were schematics for the Tank's design, he saw with satisfaction- it was a good start- and jumbles of half-created junk. He shifted it around, searching, and began to carefully pull open drawers, leaning back in case the crazy asshole had decided to leave him a going away present that even his company's scanners wouldn't pick up. He was brilliant enough, Seto thought. Brilliant, but crazy.

"Fuck," he swore softly, as he came up with a large manila folder buried beneath heaping piles of receipts and paperwork. Flipped open, it answered a few questions and opened a thousand more.

His immediate assumption upon all of this was that Takashi had decided to create himself something. In reality, it appeared that he had _revived_ something. And that this particular something was chosen because it been preserved in such a manner that left it mostly intact- but, prevalently, its brain. "You crazy son of a bitch," he murmured, half impressed, but mostly disgusted.

A hassled-looking blonde fellow he recognized as one of the employees that had accompanied him there bolted in the door, screaming for him. He saw that blood was dripping the man's nose and leaving dime-sized splats on the floor.

"Kaiba-sama! Kaiba-sama, it's escaped custody! When we tried to administer an I.V. it just starte-"

Seto Kaiba grabbed the man and shoved him aside, rushing down the hall.

"**_Fuck!_**"

_(Simply Biological)_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Kiski's Note To Readers:** Yiss, the new chapter is being written. (Yes, my pretties.) There is vague disappoint on my part by the fact that there were quite a few hits, and... no reviews. Were we all just feeling lazy that day, or something? Even if you don't like it, give me some feedback, honey!_

_Edit: Whoo! One review, and thank you to the lovely Youko's Kitsune Girl for her feedback; thank you, also, to cgflower for the favourite and alert. I love you both!_

_Double-Edit: Be warned! There is a little bit of fighting in this chapter. It's not terribly happy. _

_**Summary: **Seto Kaiba is growing increasingly uneasy.Things are going missing in Kaiba Corp., and all of them seem to be related. Not only that, but strange things are going down in Domino. VERY strange things. Ancient Thief Bakura x Seto Kaiba, Ryou Bakura x Yami No Bakura_

_**Rating: **Teen, because it's unlikely it'll go beyond that. But there will be perversion, creepiness, violence, anger/hate, angst... etc.. Don't ask me, I don't know._

_I'm just writing it._

_**Disclaimer: **If I owned it, it would've been so frighteningly morbid they wouldn't have released it in North America. Amen._

'_...' - Thinking_

"..."_ - Speaking_

_**Simply Biological**_

_**KiskiMee**_

_**Chapter Two**_

Bakura watched the Ryou's chest rise and fall slowly, squatting lightly on the windowsill. The moonlight played tricks on his eyes every time he blinked, sometimes making Ryou look so still he feared the boy had stopped breathing, sometimes making him think he had shifted and he knew the thief was there.

Sometimes making him believe that the bed was empty. Those were the moments that wrenched at his mind the most. And so, he sat, trying not to blink or move or even breath, puzzling over this delicate creature of his. How could it be possible that something so fragile and vulnerable could be so similar to him? And furthermore, how could something so fragile and vulnerable belong to him- _him_, he whose specialty was destruction and theft?

He puzzled, watching the boy in the greying half-light. Morning was coming, he knew, and he had to flee the room soon. It was almost impossible for him to believe that he had been sitting crouched on that windowsill, watching a sleeping boy, until he climbed off of it and his legs uttered near-audible protests. He muffled a groan.

Ryou shifted in his bed, arms curling unconsciously around his pillow. He let loose a huge, breathy sigh, the corners of his lips turning up in his sleep. Bakura noticed, with a strange churn of his stomach, that the petite white-haired boy was sucking his bottom lip. He swallowed down the urge to move closer, throat dry and tight. He could see the teen's face now, the meager light warped through the dirty pane of glass behind him playing mottled shadows on his skin. He looked like a corpse in this light, the thief thought uncharitably, suddenly irritated for no explicable reason. He stalked out of the light quietly, resisting the need to stamp his feet.

He left the room silently, slinking around the dim house and cursing the illusions it played in the early morning. He could already perceive the light changing, becoming brighter and illuminating the world, and, though he couldn't explain it, he felt deeply irritated at the sun for coming up at such an inconvenient time. He needed to think.

He needed to think about Ryou. Lately... lately, he was seeing the boy differently. And he was troubled more. He no could no longer simply yell at him without thinking, needing to think. Now, he was assaulted by troubles- vain, self-conscious things that had no right to trouble him. But they did. And he was unable to battle them, because they weren't things he could simply banish away or beat down with fist or knife. And they nagged. He scowled. Oh, how they nagged.

He sat down in the hall and stared at the opposite wall, watching the shadows pale and grow long, lips pressed tight and hands clasped on his knees.

_(Simply Biological)_

It was hard for the man to admit, but Akefia was terrified. This wasn't the world he knew. The world he knew was rough and golden and constantly shifting, the air swimming with heat and watery illusions playing on the sand.

This place was cold, grey, and sterile. The trees were spindly black claws sticking up from the ground, the ground yellowed and crusted with cold, glittering power that crunched beneath his bare feet and made them burn. And the buildings were dark, shiny and as imposing as huge grey thunderclouds. It had been late evening when he had fled the pale little people holding him, but it was drawing on morning now, and the world was playing tricks on his eyes; it seemed as though he couldn't focus properly on anything. He sat, shivering, in a dumpster, burrowing down further in the stinking refuse. This world wasn't like this. It was _bad_.

Something roared past, loud and obnoxious, gleaming in the early light. He froze, listening to the dimming roar of the creature's cry. He drew his lips back from his teeth, confused and startled, and leaned out of the side of the box slightly, trying to smell above the reek of garbage. The mutter of angry voices flared suddenly out of sight, and he drew his breath in in a hiss, drawing back.

'_What are these people?'_ he thought, disgruntled. _'Is this the Pharaoh's doing? Has he discovered some new torture to immerse me in?'_ He felt around for something to fight back with, trying to quell his uneasiness at his nakedness. Then he heard it.

The voice of Authority, resonant and loud even when subdued, rang in the alleyway, and he broke into a fresh bout of shivering. _'No...'_ He felt his heart rate began to speed, and willed it to slow, his eyes trained on the alley's opening, straining for signs of movement in the gloom. The low, rumbling purr of the voice, overpowering all others, came in short, musical bursts, and, for a moment, he felt compelled to just go to it. To warmth. He growled quietly, tucking his head down against the wind. It had to be a trick. A trick of the Pharaoh. Well, he would outsmart it, he thought. He wasn't the King Of Thieves for nothing.

Something moved. His eyes darted upwards, and he stopped breathing. Even in the semi-darkness, the tall, wraithlike figure of the voice of Authority cut a black tear in the darkness among the other, grey forms. He quietly fumbled for the hardness he felt below his fingertips, willing it not to make a sound in this sea of that strange, crinkling fabric that felt so cold against his skin. He willed them firmly to keep moving, not to notice him, to move to the next alley- to the next city, for all he cared. They hovered uncertainly in the door of the alley, only that black figure cold and unmoving.

He yanked on the hard edge. It tore free with a loud ripping sound, and, abruptly, the level of noise skyrocketed. The small group surged down the alleyway, only Akefia's nemesis still unmoving, just watching. The thief growled, and vaulted out of the garbage, landing painfully on the cold grey asphalt with both feet. His skin began to burn instantly as the wind hit it. One of the group, a young woman, gave a tiny scream of fear, staggering back into another member.

He hit the ground running, swiping aside a man who moved into his way and dodging towards the mouth of the alley. The silhouette burned in his eyes, standing directly in the centre of the narrow space. Akefia raised the hard object in his hand to eye level to attack him, but a surge of odd reluctance hit him. He faltered mere feet away from the slender male, hesitating for just instant.

It was just an instant the brunet needed to fire the tranquillizer into the man's thigh.

He staggered, and fell like a human landslide.

The bottle rolled numbly from his fingers, clattering into the gutter.

Seto Kaiba heaved a heavy, cryptic sigh.

_(Simply Biological)_

He was as numbly aware of the night's events as though he had been watching one of Mokuba's spy movies, and, truly, the only moment that had really seemed real to him had been staring down the behemoth bolting towards him, looking for all the world like a trapped animal.

Which, in many ways, he thought, the man was. This wasn't really his world, was it? He speculated quietly. _'It's inconceivable_,_'_ he thought quietly. _'To be confronted with something totally new and unexpected... something that you couldn't, in your wildest moments of genius, conceive.'_ He leaned back in his narrow chair, startled by his own mildly altered thoughts. Before, he had thought it would be some extraordinary experience- to learn everything that mankind had learned in thousand of years in a matter of months or years. But now... _'There was no way he could have seen this coming.'_ He 'harumph'ed slightly. _'He can't be expected to understand a change of this magnitude. But what could we possibly do with the man?'_

He rose from his chair, and paced out of his office down the hall, not really paying much attention to where he was going. _'I can't let the media get ahold of this. Ugh. They would tear him apart with excitement. Me, as well.'_ He stopped momentarily, considering the implications of it being found out that a two-year illegal operation was going on beneath his very fingertips. An operation with dramatic results. He felt a sudden surge of revulsion. _'They'd probably treat him like some sort of pet, the sick freaks. Look at the world's newest favourite caveman- let's call him something cute and fuzzy like 'Snowball' or 'Fluffy', why not?'_ His fists clenched involuntarily, and his pace quickened.

The thought of someone so obviously confused and vulnerable, despite his great size, becoming a new rarity for people to press up against the glass for, filled him with such an implacable rage that he had to mute the urge to put his fist through the wall. Fuzzy, creeping memories of Gozuburo and being paraded like a little poodle before cold, stony faces, chafed wrists still throbbing, made his stomach turn. Without even really realizing it, his resolve hardened to a quick in that moment. No one would touch this... creature. Not while he could shut them up.

He stopped, disoriented for a moment. Where was he? Ah, the communications wing. He faltered for a moment, shrugged inwardly, and kept going. There was time enough for a little visit to the infirmary.

_(Simply Biological)_

Ryou was concerned about his Yami. The boy was quiet, eating slowly, almost meditatively, and hadn't complained even once when Ryou had handed him his breakfast, which was a startling rarity. He worried for a moment that the other boy might be sick, then dismissed the idea as fancy. Bakura didn't get sick.

Though, as he quietly bit off another piece of turkey, staring moodily at the table, Ryou wasn't entirely sure. There were dark circles under his eyes, and wind-blown wisps of hair sticking up all over his head and in his face. Bakura was, by nature, a meticulous person. As odd as it sounded to say, he seemed to abhor mess. Ryou decided to broach the subject.

"Bakura-sama?" He prompted quietly. Bakura started, and looked at him with wide brown eyes, then grunted and returned to eating. Ryou sighed. "Yami, what's wrong?"

He shrugged half-heartedly. Ryou prompted him silently with a concerned stare. It was Bakura's turn to sigh. "Nothing, Ryou."

Ryou stared. Never once in the long time he had been exposed to the thief had Bakura ever called him by the simple title. Never. It was always 'yodunshi' or 'hikari', and always in quietly derisive tones. He made an inquisitive noise, but the other boy just avoided his eyes and stared at his plate. Concern grew into outright alarm. "Bakura, what's wrong?" he prodded, stomach churning. There was obviously something wrong if his Yami was being this incredibly submissive- and to him, of all people. He bit his lip, and rose and moved towards him. He reached to touch his shoulder. "Yami? Yami, you're sca-"

Bakura reached up and caught Ryou's hand in his. With a small squeeze, he pushed it away and released it, turning back to his meal. Ryou stood and stared helplessly, a small spark of anger stirring in his gut. What right did Bakura have to make him worry like this? Whenever he acted even less then chipper, his white-haired housemate was all over it, pestering and poking mockingly. And now he thoguth he could simply just ignore him and push him quietly away and expect to be ignored?

The spark caught into a flame, and Ryou began to shake. He grabbed his Yami's shoulder forcefully, wondering inwardly what the hell he was doing. This was not a Ryou thing to do. He did it anyway, yanking the other boy around to face him. Taken aback, Bakura stared up at him, face tired and drawn and oddly resigned. Ryou situated himself in front him, one hand on each shoulder, jaw set and knees shaking from barely suppressed wonder and fear of what he was doing. _He _was prying into Bakura's problems?!

"Tell me. _Now_." he growled, wondering at the odd, harsh sound of his voice. He sounded like... well, like Bakura himself. He shivered.

The Yami turned his face away passively. Enraged anew, Ryou grabbed his jaw with a hand and forced him to look at him, unconscious roughness causing the other boy to mewl slightly in shock. He set his jaw angrily, pushing down fear. "What's wrong with you?" He demanded, more and more alarmed at how much he sounded like the other. "You're being a pussy. And _I'm_ the hikari, Yami?" He scoffed. Bakura's eyes flashed, and he grabbed Ryou's wrists angrily, nostrils flaring.

"Fuck off."

"No. Tell me what's wrong."

"None of your fucking business."

Ryou stared, the small flame that had burning merrily away in his stomach exploding through his entire body. For a moment, he made an almost woman-like noise of incomprehensible fury, resisting the urge to deck the man sitting complacently before him. "_None of my business?_ I fucking live with you, you cocksucker! I'm your _hikari_, if you hadn't noticed! Of _course_ it's my fucking business," he grated out, yanking against his Yami's hold on his wrists. "You will tell me, and you will tell me _now_." Bakura bolted out of his chair and shoved the smaller boy back. Ryou crashed into the refrigerator with a small scream. Bakura's palms smashed down on either side of his head, making the fridge shake with the force. He pinned the boy back against it, face inches away from his, filling Ryou's vision with dark, narrowed eyes and tightly closed lips.

"Who are you to fuck around in my life, yodunshi?" he growled, following Ryou's eyes with his head to make sure the other boy couldn't simply look away and block him out. "Since when are you forceful enough to _anything?_ You want to know what my problem is? Do you? _Do you?!_"

Ryou began to cry quietly, pressed back against the cold metal. Bakura stared with forced dispassion at him, swallowing. "You're my problem, Ryou," he said quietly. "I don't fucking know whether to beat your head in or beat the fuck out of anyone who looks at you the wrong way!" He barked with harsh laughter, pushing away and scrubbing at his scalp with his fingers. "I can't fucking do both, now can I?" Shaking his head, he stalked out of the house, bare feet and all. The house shook with the slam of the front door.

Ryou still stood pressed against the fridge, back burning with the chill, cheeks swollen with tears and eyes wide. He slid down it to sit on the floor, staring at where Bakura had been.

He began to bawl.

_(Simply Biological)_

He was completely still in the bed, eyes closed and breathing slow, but the bed itself was dwarfed by his mass. _'God,'_ Kaiba thought, _'He looks dangerous even when he's unconscious.'_ He pulled his coat closer around him self-consciously. _'Jesus. Or Odin, I suppose,'_ he thought cynically. Giving the bed a wide berth, he crossed to get the medical prognosis his doctors had filled out while the behemoth had slept. _'Where's that damn doctor?'_ he wondered, irritated. Flipping open the file, he walked slowly back to the chair which he had pulled up for himself, engrossed.

So engrossed, in fact, that he didn't even hear the whispering tear of the thick leather straps binding down the giant's wrist, and nearly lost his balance and fell to his knees when his wrist was suddenly encompassed in what felt like a rough, warm block of stone. Papers scattered across the room as the folder went flying, drifting across the floor and through the air. He stared down at the dark eyes glowering up at him, and yanked violently away, prying at the man's fingers with his free hand.

Groggy and disoriented, the creature did nothing more then hold fast to his wrist, but even then, his hands looked like a doll's compared to the huge, calloused block of steel that bond him. Turning bleary brown eyes away from him, the Egyptian began to pull his other arm upwards, and with a sense of dreamy awe and terror, Kaiba saw the small, powerful steel links the bound the leather to the table giving way one by one above the deeply-veined, muscular flex of the man's arm. He began to yank away furiously, pulling with all his body weight, and yelling for assistance. Seemingly irritated by his clawing and tugging, the white-haired male reached over and grabbed his other hand, squeezing so hard the brunet could feel the bones of his hand grate together. He screamed, black spots appearing in his vision.

_(Simply Biological)_

Akefia looked up at the voice of Authority, startled by the pained, throaty yell, and saw his eyes clenched shut, shiny wet tracks on his face so incongruous with his stern features. It seemed somehow incredibly wrong that this man could be injured, and he quickly shifted his opinion of his current situation. Grunting in his native tongue about wimps, he loosened his grip slightly and shifted it to the wrist, and began to strain to sit up against the heavy strips binding him down. They gave way slowly, with tiny pings at either side, and he snorted with relief as the pressure eased, and turned his attention on the lean young man.

He was perfectly still, gasping, head hung and eyes staring at the ground. His hand, dwarfed by Akefia's much larger one, was began to turn the hearty black-purple of a fresh, deep wound. He stared at it dispassionately for a moment. At least the man wasn't screaming. But, still, he felt a strange sort of resent at the man for giving up so quickly, and being so delicate. The idea that someone this vulnerable could overpower him rankled. He yanked on his good wrist, and the little brunet stumbled and collapsed to his knees, face an awful porridgy colour. "Stop whining," he growled gruffly, feeling a little twinge of annoyance mixed with odd guilt. He was such a pretty little creature.

The boy stared at him blankly, and gasped something unintelligible. Akefia frowned, and transferred both wrists carefully to one palm. He gestured to himself. "Akefia. Akefia." He frowned, feeling rather idiotic. _'Why aren't I just crushing this man?'_ He snorted. It felt wrong. But since when did he feel things? He shrugged inwardly, and jabbed the other man in the chest, oddly startled at the bony feel of his chest beneath the flowing coat.

He stared at him blankly, and then, groggy with pain, mumbled something foreign. Akefia prompted him once more. He mumbled it a little louder, and sagged down. The thief pulled his arms, frowning, and he groaned as his hand was moved, twin spots of feverish pink burning high in his bone-white cheeks. The white-haired thief quashed another, larger, twinge of guilt, but eased the pressure of his wrists. "Kie'bah," he tried, testing it out on his tongue, and poking him in the chest. 'Kie'bah' nodded wearily, and quite promptly passed out.

_(Simply Biological)_

_**After-Note:** Jesus Christ, I'm an abusive person. What the fuck? Poor Ryou! Poor Kaiba (Kie'bah, hehe.)! Poor fucking Akefia! Poor Bakura. xD I think I might need some sort of therapy. _

_Just to say, there is a reason the straps are leather. Firstly, because metal has a tendency of chafing, and Kaiba definitely has a morbid fear of manacles, even on other people, and because we're assuming that there isn't any kind of flexible plexy-glass or something. If you think about, those straps would've held down anyone who isn't, say, six foot nine and three hundred pounds. Yah-huh. And just to tell you, I made Akefia so huge 'cause... uh... I could. And I'm reading **Frankenstein **for English. Hehe. I'm a twisted child._


	3. Chapter 3

_**Kiski's Note To Readers:** Jesus! I'm not being lazy! Holy shizah! Just to tell you, babydolls, I'm feeling a little neglected looking at my hits. Are people reading the first chapter and going 'ew', then running off because they want something inane and foppish? Poopyshit. I'm going to go cry now. Or not. But, seriously, give me some feedback? **Please!** Ahh!_

_And you know, we might actually have some real dialogue this chapter beyond Ryou bawling. Yay! 3_

_Edit: Four reviews! (I love you all.) EEK! Yes, it was supposed to be yadonushi (I'm sosososo sorry!), and yes, it was supposed to be 'bound'. Ack, and I thought I'd caught all my little errors! Goddamn! But thank you so much for noticing, Ryou VeRua, now I can go fix them in my documents. 3 And I loved your review so much! I absolutely adore pairing two characters that no one would expect- like, I in one of the ones I wrote on a different account, a smaller pairing in a one I had was Mai and Kaiba... and Yami no Bakura and Shizuka! (I need a life. Seriously.) I also wrote an OC story pairing Yami no Bakura with Jonouchi's mom. (Oh my, that was so much fun to write. I creeped the hell out of all of haha!)_

_Double-Edit: SIX! And such constructiveness. Akefia was able to breath in the tank because, like in The Abyss, it's like the fluid babies are in. Hence why he pukes when he comes out of it- because his body's so suddenly adjusted. And everything else I will explain along the way. _

_**Summary: **Seto Kaiba is growing increasingly uneasy.Things are going missing in Kaiba Corp., and all of them seem to be related. Not only that, but strange things are going down in Domino. VERY strange things. Ancient Thief Bakura x Seto Kaiba, Ryou Bakura x Yami No Bakura_

_**Rating: **Teen, because it's unlikely it'll go beyond that. But there will be perversion, creepiness, violence, anger/hate, angst... etc.. Don't ask me, I don't know._

_I'm just writing it._

_**Disclaimer: **If I owned it, it would've been so frighteningly morbid they wouldn't have released it in North America. Amen._

'_...' - Thinking_

"..."_ - Speaking_

_**Simply Biological**_

_**KiskiMee**_

_**Chapter Three**_

Bakura sat on the streetbench, face buried in his hands. What had he done? He'd basically just confessed to his yadonushi that he needed him. And Bakura didn't need anyone.

Or so he told himself.

Even now, with thick, coarse strands of hair tickling his nose and seeming to somehow get up _in_ it- which he found highly improbable and aggravating, as hairs grow down and therefore should not be able to go _up_ things- he couldn't seem to quite convince himself that he felt nothing towards the boy. He frowned, one corner of his lip turning down a mite more then the other, and bit the inside of his lip unconsciously, unaware that he was catching one of Ryou's nervous habits. But it was so strange, he thought, irritated. His skin felt too small lately, like he was hitting puberty all over again, and he bristled simply at the appreciative looks some of the girls gave the boy. But why the hell should he care? He'd have gladly taken those same girls aside and showed them what a little more experience could teach a man. But when they looked at Ryou...

He rose suddenly, groaning low in his throat. So maybe it wasn't something he could easily deny. The image, Ryou, backed into a corner with his hair full of static and sticking to the fridge, his skin, and the very tears that were running in silent torrents down his face, was burned in negative on his eyelids, like the imprints he'd get from staring too long at a bright light. Pacing in a random direction, he admitted the facts. He cared for the boy.

'_Fraternally,'_ he told himself quietly, hushing the snide voice that awoke in the back of his mind. _'He's the sibling I never had the chance to raise. Not after...'_ He shook off the heavy cloud of anger that threatened to settle on his chest.

'_Not after the slaughter, you mean, darling?' _

He stopped and glared futilely at the ground. _'Yes, after the slaughter.'_

'_The one you couldn't stop? And the one you should've died in, but inside, you cowered in a nice, big pile of shit, hearing your mother scream and watching your sister's last, wide-eyed twitches as she tried to breath through a sliced windpipe? Hearing the desperate noises she made? There's nothing like them. Nothing like that wet, fleshy gasping, hmm? But I guess it's appropriate. No wonder the guards didn't find you.'_

He stood perfectly still, head down against the wind.

'_They wouldn't have been able to tell you apart from the shit you were hiding in.'_

_(Simply Biological)_

Ryou sniffled quietly, rubbing his arms to try and make the goosebumps disappear. The house was suddenly unbearably cold with Bakura, but he found he simply couldn't bring himself to go grab a sweater from upstairs, or even a coat from the front hall.

They would smell like him. That deep, musky _male_ odour that Bakura just seemed to exude from nowhere. It wasn't a bad odour, Ryou thought moodily, holding his knees to his chin, it was just... powerful. Like its owner. Powerful and strong and overwhelming. He sighed.

The little sound seemed huge in the devastatingly empty apartment. Never before had he realized what tremendous vitality the white-haired teen leant the home, always moving and changing things- he made it seem smaller, warmer and homelier then it was, and Ryou felt a sudden painful wish that he hadn't cleaned up Bakura's last mess. His home seemed too sterile without it.

It was like living in a hospital.

Alone in his own private hospital, metal refrigerator and all, Ryou began to do something he hadn't done in a very long time. He began to sing. At first, it was a soft, sweet humming, untrained but of a beautiful clarity of tone, then it grew to a smooth swelling and falling of sound. Even the cold metal against his back seemed dulled in his pure unbridled joy at being able to do something so simple. It was a comfort thing, he thought, so neighbours be damned. His mother had sung to him as a child. He felt calmer, and tested his range, scrolling up until his voice cracked unattractively, and giggling quietly to himself when it did.

Anyone listening would have guessed that the singer was very thin, blonde, and young, which was not so very far off the mark. However, anyone watching would simply have marvelled at how a sound so clear could come out of someone so small. Because Ryou was small. His collarbones made dents in his thinner shirts, and the bony ripple of his sternum could be felt even through his jacket.

Ryou was downright scrawny. And yet, the sound that came out of him sounded so clear and small that it was as though it came straight from his skinny ribs, not his mouth or nose. He smiled quietly to himself, toying briefly with a fancy.

_He was terrified. There was no way he could pull this off, was there? Ryou bit his lip tentatively. The door was looking evermore attractive to him as this women scrutinized him._

"_Sing for me," one- the Queen Bitch, he fancied- commanded haughtily, obviously unamused by his unimposing frame. He did._

_He sang so hard that his ribs ached with the tension and his throat burned with the strain. When he stopped, the room was silent. _

_She and the other women began to applaud, blown away by his raw talent. This was the day. The dawning of a new life._

_A good life._

Ryou giggled a little to himself, drawing absently on the dirty floor with his fingertip. Sure, Biology was fantastic. But he could dream, couldn't he?

_(Simply Biological)_

Kaiba woke up dizzy and groaning, but upon something comfortably soft. Disoriented, he sat up and moaned at the scream of pain from his hand, which, cracking his eyes open to look at it, was so dark a purple it was almost black. He slumped back down, suddenly hit by a wave of nausea.

He quickly assessed his situation, trying to draw his mind off his hand. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know how he'd gotten there. He didn't know who might be arou-

Seto Kaiba's eyes opened slowly and with a morbid amusement that left cold trickles to settle in his gut. He did know who might be around, to think of it. And that would certainly explain a great deal. The brunet shifted his eyes to the side and found wall. He frowned. He shifted his eyes to the other side and found a gloriously empty room. He frowned again. What was this? Had the brute simply run off and escaped again?

It seemed extremely unlikely to him. The being- the man, he supposed- wasn't built like he who flees to fight another day. He was built like he who smashes today so tomorrow reluctantly creeps up and attempts not to be noticed. Kaiba felt his lips twitch upwards for the first time in days, and wondered briefly if he was going insane. The haze was beginning to lift from his brain, and his hand was sending out angry little whining throbs at the lumpy surface it rested on. He looked down at it again, unhappily, and froze.

How could he not have noticed before?

The surface beneath him took a deep breath inwards, rising against his spine, and he squeaked, feeling suddenly cold all over. It snuffled congestedly, and curled a hand around his slender, semi-bruised wrist.

_(Simply Biological)_

Akefia was amused. It had been very hard for him to hold his breath long enough to watch, with growing entertainment, the confused twisting of the little male on him, but it was worth it. He watched, partially-propped up on his elbows, as the man's head tilted back slowly to stare at him with comically wide pale-blue eyes, pupils bare pin-pricks in the fluorescent light. Actually, he thought, in this light, they almost looked green. He quirked an eyebrow.

Kie'bah yelped and twisted, then groaned as his hand twitched. The thief snorted quietly and stared at the brunet. "No, Kie'bah. No," he said slowly and clearly. The little afore-mentioned man just stared at him in confusion. He sighed. _'I should really kill him.'_

Instead, he carefully arranged the Voice-Of-Authority, the previously-so-petrifying silhouette, in his arms, making sure to steady his hand and keep it from touching anything. He rose silently.

Cradle in his arm, Seto Kaiba's long legs shifted and tightened unconsciously against each other as the brunet absentmindedly bit his lip.

Akefia found it mildly erotic.

_(Simply Biological)_

Bakura's fingertips hovered uneasily against the doorhandle. He could hear the smooth, clear sound only faintly through the heavy wood, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Ryou was singing. And that he was singing beautifully. He chewed absently on his knuckles, wanting to turn the doorknob, but feeling guilty and sick and angry all at once. He sighed and leaned against the door.

The singing stopped.

"Yami?" that small, soft voice called from inside. Bakura pressed his lips together and turned the doorhandle. Ryou's came running towards him, worry clouding his eyes, one hand reaching out to brace against the wall. Bakura narrowed his eyes. But God, that boy was skinny. He could see his bony legs flex every time he stepped, bare from below the knee.

His mouth went dry without the sudden urge to touch them, and he blinked rapidly. Ryou looked at him confusedly, slowing down. _'Oh God,'_ he thought, alarmed, _'Why in hell would I want to touch his knees?'_

Ryou approached more cautiously, soft white skin glowing in the semi-gloom of the doorway. The white-haired Yami found himself somehow incapable of removing his thoughts from the skinny knees and the sound of the boy's bare feet padding on the carpet. Ryou looked up at him, crossing his arms nervously across his chest. Bakura unconsciously leaned forward as he opened his mouth.

"You're covered in snow."

He blinked.

"I know."

"Okay."

The moment was silent, awkward, and tense. Bakura found it becoming increasingly difficult not to reach out and run his finger along the boy's jaw, down that skinny chest and between those soft white thi-

He jerked backwards, fishmouthing. Ryou squeaked, startled, as the other boy jammed his hands in his hair with a groan.

Bakura stared disbelievingly at the floor. _'What is **wrong**__with me?!'_ he screeched mentally. _'Why am I so goddamn attracted to him?'_ He nearly moaned aloud as Ryou's fingers wrapped hesitantly around his elbow, and moving quickly, he pinned the boy against the wall, entertaining the demons in his mind. Ryou squawked and tensed, eyes squinting closed and body hard with tension, and Bakura stared at his hikari with an uncontrollable, burning sense of want. Ryou cracked his eyes open and bit his lip.

The little thief's self-restraint broke.

_(Simply Biological)_

Ryou's eyes widened as Bakura began to kiss him roughly, one hand curling around his lower back. He stood, frozen, lips parted and eyes staring, as the other pulled him against him. Only the hard projection that brushed against him brought him back to his senses, and began to squirm. "This is so wrong, Yami," he protested anxiously. He bit back the thought that it felt good anyway.

"Why?"

He sighed, trying to maneuver away from the stronger boy's questing mouth, and shook himself irritably, trying to coax down the small fire that was building below his gut. "Because we're identical, Yami-sama."

Bakura growled and buried his nose in the crook between Ryou's neck and jaw. "No."

He blinked. "What?"

"We're not the same person."

"But-"

Bakura kissed him roughly. "No buts. Come here."

Ryou squeaked as the foreign tongue began to flick coaxingly at his own, fingers nervously sliding over Bakura's shoulders. Bakura growled. "Relax. I don't bite."

Ryou yelped as he bit his neck experimentally, and flushed at the low, sadistic laugh that resulted. "Much. Come here."

Ryou jumped away, scrabbling backwards. "But-"

"I said, 'no buts'," the thief crooned huskily, dark eyes almost black in the gloom, lips semi-curled in small smirk. "Come here. _Now._"

Ryou was finding it increasingly hard to deny how aroused this was making him, no matter how terrifying it was. Even as his Yami stalked quietly towards him, eyes half-lidded and dark, his skin was prickling pleasantly, and he bit his lip. Bakura groaned, watching him.

"Don't do that."

Ryou scooted back out of arm's reach. "Do what?"

"Bite your lip like that..." He darted forward and nabbed Ryou by the waist. "...you little tease." Ryou leaned away, and Bakura frowned. "Do you want me to stop?" He nodded nervously, feeling peevishly regretful but also relieved. Bakura sighed. "Can I kiss you, at least?" Ryou shook his head, and Bakura stepped back and flopped onto the couch, elbows propped on his knees. "You're so difficult, Ryou," he complained childishly.

Ryou opened his mouth, closed it, and walked dazedly to his room.

_(Simply Biological)_

_**After-Note: **Je-sus. Bakura is the Lord and Master of mood-swings, isn't he? One minute depressed, then randy, then whiny. What a weird kid. And poor Kaiba... yikes. I wouldn't want the affections of a colossal Egyptian thief who's probably never heard of lube before. Yikes again. With knobs. (Somebody's been reading the Georgia Nicholson books!) _

_But, anyway, it's Ryou I feel for the most. I mean, Jesus, the kid never gets a break. He lives with a psycho, the psycho now has dropped the idea of wanting to kill him and picked up the desire to molest him. Oh my. Oh my, **oh my. **_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Kiski's Note To Readers:** I love my readers. And thank you to lilalou for her review, and to Noir De Akane (a new reader!) for her lovely and helpful review. I'm so glad you like this story and my writing style! (Writing **is**__my thing... I wrote my first short story in grade... four? Five?) About the cloning thing... not exactly, but I'll explain that. Hopefully soon. Questions will be answered!_

_And yes, I'm aware that a lot of people are probably freaked by Kaiba's seeming submissiveness, but it's logical- he's a powerful character, not weak but still very tactical, but he's really no match when faced unprepared with Akefia's raw power. Akefia's a beast, man. Whaa... I wouldn't want to be caught in a dark alley with him. Or a lit one. Or anywhere. You get the idea._

_Edit: Whoop! Fast update! Whoop-whoop!_

_**Summary: **Seto Kaiba is growing increasingly uneasy.Things are going missing in Kaiba Corp., and all of them seem to be related. Not only that, but strange things are going down in Domino. VERY strange things. Ancient Thief Bakura x Seto Kaiba, Ryou Bakura x Yami No Bakura_

_**Rating: **Teen, because it's unlikely it'll go beyond that. But there will be perversion, creepiness, violence, anger/hate, angst... etc.. Don't ask me, I don't know._

_I'm just writing it._

_**Disclaimer: **If I owned it, it would've been so frighteningly morbid they wouldn't have released it in North America. Amen._

'_...' - Thinking_

"..."_ - Speaking_

_**Simply Biological**_

_**KiskiMee**_

_**Chapter Four**_

'_Well... that was... unexpected.'_ Ryou frowned a little, staring at the small twining cracks in his ceiling. He brushed his fingers across his still-buised lips absently, lost in thought. _'What's gotten into him? He's usually so... standoffish. Except when it comes to food.' _The teen giggled quietly, clasping his hands to his mouth quickly. An image of Bakura staring incredulously at a dish of lasagna sprang to mind. It had been... what... five years since that? He shook his head, sighing. _'I would've been only twelve... Jesus.'_ He grimaced, stomach twinging with hunger. _'And living alone- with the exception of Bakura, who didn't really count at the point- even at that age. Is that even legal?'_

'_Ah, whatever, I'm hungry.' _He rose and peeked out the slightly warped hole between the frame of the door and the door itself, telling himself for the thousandth time that he was going to have to replace the door someday since Bakura had soaked it with Absolut. He winced at the memory, and repressed a little giggle. _'God, that **stunk**.'_ Quietly, he slipped out the door and through the living room to the tiny kitchen. His apartment really was a tiny little hole, as Bakura described it, he realized. Mind you, he didn't need to run around like a lunatic, like that boy did. He smiled again, and shook his head. Hand hovering on the fridge, he froze, lips slightly parted and eyes distant. He leaned heavily on it, feeling suddenly faint.

'_Oh my God.' _He stared blankly at one of the kitchen magnets. _'He kissed me? He kissed me. He_** _kissed_**_ me...!'_ A small, strangled noise escaped from his thought as his brain finally attempted to tackle this peculiar idea. _'So... he's attracted to me?' _He frowned and chewed his lip. _'Am I attracted to him?'_

Ryou pulled the fridge door open, feeling lost and dizzy. There was a misshapen and slightly burnt pizza on the top shelf, with a piece of paper on top. He stared at it confusedly, and pulled off the paper- which stuck to the now cold cheese unpleasantly enough to make him slightly suspicious.

_Ryou-_

_The stooves a pece of shit. Ficks it._

_-Bakura_

Ryou began to laugh so hard tears ran down his face.

_(Simply Biological)_

Kaiba kept his free arm tucked carefully across his chest, annoyed at himself for the way he was behaving. _'No one should be able to dominate me like this,'_ he groused moodily, wincing as the behemoth carrying him- _'in one arm!'_- jostled his injured hand with a heavy stride. He didn't know where they were going, and was getting the increasingly ominous feeling that he didn't have a choice in the matter. The brunet snuck a glance up at the face of the man carrying him, thinking to himself that he was rather beautiful in very rough-cut way. His eyes lingering in fascination on the deep, strikingly white scar down across one cheek. _'That wasn't stitched properly,' _he thought disapprovingly, and marvelled once again on what a feat of science Akefia was. Cloning had been thought of, he knew, but, God! Reanimation? He didn't think that had been given more then a cursory examination in anything outside serious fiction.

He snorted quietly to himself, musing. _The_ _Modern_ _Prometheus_, indeed. He toyed briefly with the idea of Akefia stretched out naked on a slab, rising up like a zombie like in the old _Frankenstein _movie, amused. His thoughts wandered to how the man had looked crouched on the floor, dripping and coughing and gleaming green-bronze in the fluorescent light. He had looked vulnerable and childlike- almost fetus-like- but at the same time, intense and as dangerous as a cornered animal, muscles rippling, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. He had looked, even then, dominating. _'An on-top kind of guy,'_ his mind told him involuntarily, and he winced. That was dangerous territory, and he needed to stay out of it. This was not a an individual he could risk being less then firm with.

'_And you're doing a great job at that, aren't you?' _his mind mocked cooly. He beat it down with the iron fist of the very angry and uncomfortable. _'What am I going to do about it?' _he berated angrily. _'Ask him nicely to put me down?' _He snorted again. Akefia looked down at him with a semi-amused expression and a quirked eyebrow. As his head shifted in the light, Kaiba stifled a gasp.

It was _all_ scar tissue.

His entire scalp, beneath the thick, coarse white hair, was a mess of slightly discoloured scar tissue, unnoticeable in anything but a strong backlighting that highlighted the ripples and dents in the skin. He stared. Suddenly, things made sense. The man couldn't possibly have albinism, not even partial albinism- his skin and eyes were dark naturally. The white hair, well, he had surmised, had something to do with strange genetics or early greying, but this made so much more sense. Scar tissue often caused either baldness over the area, _or for the hair to grow through without pigment_. It made so much sense. Akefia was looking at him strangely, and Kaiba realized he had been staring blankly and openly at his hair. He dropped his eyes to the wall.

'_It was done when he was young,'_ he thought dazedly. _'The superficial scarring is almost completely healed. He must've been... God... five? Younger?' _He felt a shudder of horror ripple up his spine. _'Jesus. What could've made scarring like that? It can't have been blunt force... nor cutting. It's either a burn or acid scarring.'_ For a brief moment, he had an overwhelming mental image of Mokuba screaming, clawing at his burning hair, and nearly vomited. A wave of dizziness overtook him.

They stopped. Kaiba felt the larger man began to lower him, and a cold surface on his legs and buttocks. He quickly put down his good hand to catch himself, and curled his other in his lap as Akefia released it. Looking around, he realized with a cold shock that the two of them were in the laboratory where he had first discovered the nature of the whole secret experiment business that had been going on behind his back. Akefia crouched down on his haunches and barked something commanding. The brunet stared at him in confusion. "Pardon?"

The thief breathed heavily through his nose, obviously annoyed, and repeated what he said more slowly. Kaiba glanced around uneasily and tried to make sense of whatever it was the much larger, much-more-capable-of-murdering-him-good male wanted of him. He drew a blank.

_(Simply Biological)_

Akefia was becoming steadily more annoyed with the gap in translation he seemed to be having trouble bridging. "Send me back," he demanded impatiently, drawing another blank stare from his pale-skinned captive. "To Egypt. To home." Nothing. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Rising from the floor, he stalked over his tube, on its side on the floor, and placed his hand on it, looking pointedly at Kie'bah. Kie'bah looked shocked for a moment, then raised both eyebrows incredulously. For a brief, crazy moment, Akefia thought he looked incredibly familiar, and squinted at him suspiciously. Even that voice brought back a vague nagging that he couldn't seem to quite place. He quashed the idea as coincidence.

Kie'bah pointed at the tube. The thief made a brief positive noise. Then Kie'bah pointed at him. Akefia was momentarily puzzled, then yanked away from the tube. He thought he wanted to go back in the tube! The thief growled negatively. His captive began to laugh, shaking his head. He watched suspiciously as it got to its feet and began to rummage through the large greyish desk, weary of all the strangeness he had to put up with in the last day or so. As it came up with piles upon piles of eye-searingly white paper, Akefia grew bored. He eyed the smaller man's lithe body speculatively, shifting the strange robe-like gown he had awakened in.

Just as he was beginning to come to the formation of a rather sinister idea, the voice of Authority cried out in excitement. He jumped and stared at him, holding something flat and square in his hands with careful awe. The thief began to lose interest again as Kie'bah fiddled with the little moving bits on the grey thing's top. It was emitting strange fuzzy crackling noises, and he glowered at it for stealing away the attention of his little brown-haired captive. _'What a strange child,' _he observed as the boy cried out roughly in excitement, apparently making progress with his little grey box. Akefia rolled his eyes and stretched uncomfortably. The robes itched and made him sweat, he fretted, running hands down them. They were slippery to the touch, like silks, but flimsy and not very breathable. He stripped them off, sighing in relief.

Even the language barrier between the two of them couldn't stop Akefia from conceiving that he had made a social error when the little brunet coughed and shifted his hand in front of his eyes, still fiddling with the little grey box. He stared defiantly at Kie'bah- it wasn't an inherent trait in him to enjoy being ignored. He crossed his arms across his chest and smirked when the smaller boy glanced at him and snapped his eyes shut with a grimace, grumbling incomprehensibly in his own language.

He was mid-grumble when the thief realized he could understand what he was saying.

_(Simply Biological)_

Bakura smiled as Ryou hiccuped uncontrollably, wiping tears from his eyes and finally collapsing on the floor, still prostrate with laughter. He watched him unconcernedly, sitting cross-legged under the table, eating a very cold, very burnt piece of said pizza. So far, the white-haired hikari hadn't seen him.

He was fine with that. He took a strange pleasure in watching the boy on his own- the differences in behaviour were distinct. He was stronger, somehow- more forceful, more willful. He didn't dawdle, hesitant, about decision, but went about action with an absentminded and leisurely determination that fascinated the more dynamic and flighty thief. He reached up and put the crust of the pizza on the edge of the table, not bothering to take his eyes of his lighter half.

Ryou neglected to notice. Impatience began to stir in the little thief's stomach, and he quashed it irritably. He would sit this one out, dammit. He was capable of it. He had sat out things longer then this. Mind you, he speculated, most of those times he was under the pressure of imminent death. _'Nevermind that,'_ he thought flippantly. _'It's not like I'm incapable of just sitting here and enjoying the way Ryou laughs.'_ He smirked. _'And as soon as he stops, his stomach will start hurting and he's going to start whining like a little bitch and go find Avil.'_ Distracted, he frowned, and looked at his slightly fingers. _'Avil? Avril? No, that wasn't it. Anvil? No!' _He scowled angrily, and threw Ryou an irritated look for installing such a difficult thought in his brain.

Ryou was just beginning to regain control of his senses, occasionally bursting into a fresh fit of the giggles, then sighing painfully, remembering, and giggling again. He fingers were already shiny with moisture as he scrubbed at his damp face. He heaved a final, slightly pained sigh, then groaned and grabbed his stomach. Bakura had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from snorting aloud.

"Crap..." Ryou mumbled, and fumbled for the counter with his fingers, still shaking his head in disbelieving amusement. Bakura shifted quietly, amused. _'He's directly across from me... and yet, because he's not looking for me, he doesn't see me.'_ As Ryou scrabbled painfully to his feet, he looked directly at his darker half, yet showed no sign of having seen him. Bakura nearly laughed, but pinched himself hard enough to draw blood in an effort to repress it. He could hear the clinking of medicine bottles clear through the apartment, and began to shake with repressed laughter. _'Oh, yadonushi,'_ he thought, snorting into his hands. _'How are you amused by such stupid things?'_

_(Simply Biological)_

Ryou frowned, fingers hovering over the cap of the Advil bottle, and he raised a finger in

startled protestation at his reflection, laughter-groggy mind catching up with him. Unscrewing it, and dry-swallowing two, he turned around and wandered back into the kitchen, stooping to look under the table. Bakura grinned innocently up at him. The white-haired hikari opened his mouth, then closed it, taken aback. "Wha...da?" he fish-mouthed intelligently.

Bakura reached out with a hand and hooked it behind Ryou's knee, toppling him onto the floor with a startled cry. He then crawled out on hands and knees and straddled the boy comfortably. "Umm..." Ryou protested. Bakura smiled.

"Mmu?"

The smaller boy's eyebrows shot up incredulously. "Eh?" His yami just grinned scarily, and suddenly, Ryou was very, very afraid.

Bakura plopped down on his elbows, bringing his face about a foot from Ryou's, and Ryou squirmed, blushing. "Hello."

"Uh... hello..."

"Can I kiss you?"

Ryou blinked, then raised eyebrows and narrowed his eyes at his yami. "What...?" Bakura sighed impatiently.

"Can I kiss you? It's a simple question."

Ryou blinked again. "Uh... no?" His darker half frowned.

"Wrong answer."

Ryou started laughing incredulously, stomach muscles starting to ache again. "What, is this a quiz?" he snorted. "What happens if I fail?"

Suddenly, Bakura's knees were tight around his hips, and his eyes and hair lingered close in Ryou's vision. He could feel hot breath on his lips and squeaked.

Bakura grinned wickedly. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

Ryou froze. "Uh... no?"

He could feel Bakura's fingers curl through his hair as he leaned close to whisper in his ear.

"Wrong answer."

_(Simply Biological)_

Kaiba nearly screamed in triumph, but repressed the urge as a bad impression on his rather strange guest. "Do you understand me?" he said instead, using the phrase as a sort of 'Test One Two Three' type of saying. Akefia stared at him.

"Yes."

He smirked insanely, elated at finally being able to achieve communication. _'Jesus... Takashi was brilliant,'_ he thought, looking at the grey dynamics module. _'Crazy, but brilliant. To create a machine in direct link-up with the subject...!' _He eyes Akefia warily, wandering with cold amusement what the massive man would think if he told him there was a machine inside his head- connected to the temporal lobes, Kaiba surmised. The supposed language centres of the brain. He snorted and shook his head. His very naked companion glowered at him.

"What are you laughing about?" he boomed, looking vaguely uncomfortable and more then slightly dangerous. Kaiba shivered, looking up at him from the floor- keeping his eyes carefully face-level, of course.

'_Christ, he's even scarier when he speaks English... I wonder if he even knows he's speaking it?'_ He smirked, amused at the idea. "Nothing. Who are you?" He demanded cooly, rising dramatically to his feet and full lanky height- which wasn't very dramatic, considering he could only use one hand and he was at least half a foot shorter then this beats of a man. Akefia rolled his eyes impatiently.

"I told you, I am Akefia," he stated, words sounding slightly stiff and formal, but still conveying an extreme sense of arrogance, as though this was something Kaiba should've known instantly. "Why were you pretending not to understand me?" he growled, stepping forward.

Kaiba's mental train derailed briefly with panic. _'And how the hell am I supposed to explain **this**?!'_ He fumbled wildly in his mind for something to attach to, and heard his mouth come out with something both insane and entirely implausible.

"Magic," he stated confidently.

Akefia stopped. "Oh. Okay then."

Kaiba stared.

'_You've got to be fucking **joking**.'_

_(Simply Biological)_

**_After-Note:_** _Cacklecackle-gigglesnort. That's right. Said and stated. Sadism is highly underrated. But, anyway, both Kaiba and Ryou are having the times of their lives, can't you tell? Heeheehee. But, yes, I had way too much fun writing the majority of this chapter. Hope you enjoyed it!_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Kiski's Note To Readers:** Eee! Must write! Must write! This must not die! Yagah! YAGAH! Wah... is yagah a word? Ergh... please forgive me for the wait, my babies!_

_Edit: WIFFLE IS MY WORD. I LOBE IT SO. LOBE._

_Double-Edit: Apparently a wiffle ball is something existing? Erm..._

_Triple-Edit: EEP! I accidentally put that Akefia is now speaking English in the last chapter, not thinking. No, it's Japanese. It's Japan, he's speaking Japanese. JAPANESE!_

_**Summary: **Seto Kaiba is growing increasingly uneasy.Things are going missing in Kaiba Corp., and all of them seem to be related. Not only that, but strange things are going down in Domino. VERY strange things. Ancient Thief Bakura x Seto Kaiba, Ryou Bakura x Yami No Bakura_

_**Rating: **Teen, because it's unlikely it'll go beyond that. But there will be perversion, creepiness, violence, anger/hate, angst... etc.. Don't ask me, I don't know._

_I'm just writing it._

_**Disclaimer: **If I owned it, it would've been so frighteningly morbid they wouldn't have released it in North America. Amen._

'_...' - Thinking_

"..."_ - Speaking_

_**Simply Biological**_

_**KiskiMee**_

_**Chapter Five**_

Ryou felt as though someone had lit a very vivacious and successful burning flame in his loins- or, at least, that someone had dropped a lit lighter down his pants. The smooth lines of his other's body against his, so taut and lithe, were beginning to make him ache, and his fingers twitched. Even as Bakura ran his fingertips down his neck and bit the arch of his ear, the little teen felt that there was something so overwhelmingly wrong with this that it had to be right. He squeezed his eyes shut. That didn't make sense. He must be going crazy, he thought.

As Bakura's tongue began to draw light patterns behind his ear and down the curve of his throat, he was fairly sure he was already insane. _'Dear Diary,' _he thought with a dreamy sense of bemused unreality, _'Today my Yami decided it would be a fun game for a mostly reformed psychopath- as in not at all- to tease the shit out of his poor, poor Hikari, and then happily proceed to molest him on the kitchen floor. The End.'_ He started laughing uncontrollably. Bakura bit him.

Hard.

He yelped. "What was that about?!"

"You laughed at me."

Ryou rolled his eyes in exasperation, and squirmed. "What would you prefer I do?" he snapped. "Sang?" His yami's wicked smile was more then enough for him to make him snap his jaw closed painfully hard. An uneasy flicker of heat wandered lazily into his gut.

"Moaned."

"What?"

"I'd prefer it if you moaned."

He fish-mouthed, hearing the small wiffling sound he made and feeling his jaw hang open ever-so intelligently, but seemingly unable to control himself. "Eh- _excuse me?_" he asked, totally bemused. Bakura's answer was to slip his tongue between the other boy's lips and push him harder to the floor.

Ryou fought desperately for composure. _'Oh God...'_ he thought restively, trying to control the rising hardness in his pants, _'This is so completely wrong... he's like... **me**.'_ The thought percolated slowly down in the blood-starved grey matter above, and he yowled suddenly and shoved at Bakura's chest. Bakura frowned.

"What now?" he asked peevishly. If asked, Ryou would've sworn that his thoughts at that moment would've been _'God, can you say hormonal?' _

"You're me! This is so wrong! Agh!" Ryou blurted out unexpectedly. Squirming, he popped out from beneath Bakura like the cork from a champagne bottle, and scrabbled to his feet. Presumably annoyed and a little disheveled, his yami looked up at from the floor with a baleful glower.

He blew up at a piece of hair that was beginning to invade his nasal passages, and began to speak. "Ryou, we're not the same person."

Ryou's brain short-circuited halfway through the formulation of his sentence, and he stood for a moment with his jaw unhinged. _'He called me Ryou. Not hikari, not yadonushi... but Ryou.' _Surprise tempered the horrified adrenaline that had consumed him moments before, and he could do nothing but blink for the next minute before he could speak. Bakura watched him with eerie patience. "Of course we are," he started slowly, feeling a little odd. "We have the exact same biological makeup, Yami-sama," he stated with growing confidence.

His yami just sighed. "No."

"What?"

"No," Bakura said, standing up. Abruptly, he stripped off his shirt, tearing it as it came over his head. Ryou yelped and stepped backwards involuntarily, then crept forward again with a mute fascination.

Bakura's body was the same startling translucent as Ryou's, but lithe, and toned. Reaching out, Ryou couldn't feel the clefts between his ribs, or the heavy knobs of his sternum. His fingers rose to his own chest, and he looked at them, suddenly puzzled. "But it doesn't make sense..." he muttered. The separation had been painful and awkward from both of them- almost Adamic in it's strange science, it had been a body wrenching tearing of flesh that was slurred in his mind like a drunken memory. The procedure had been convoluted and probably rather inefficient, considering, but the gist of what he remembered from the night was a separation of flesh like a splitting of identical twins. Ryou, already thin, had passed out and had to be hospitalized afterwards, but, as he thought back, Ryou realized Bakura hadn't.

At the time, he had assumed it had been a stubborn mental constitution. Now, his stomach churned with doubt.

Ryou snapped out of his brooding as his yami wrapped a hand around his narrow wrist, and his eyes followed the scrawny line of his arm down to his thin and elegant fingers and up his other's much meatier and more muscular one. His eyebrows drew together in confusion. "But it doesn't make _sense_," he repeated stubbornly, feeling dizzy.

The light that filtered through the kitchen blinds played on the dustmotes floating about their heads, and for a brief, crazy moment, Ryou had to struggle with the urge to tell Bakura that he looked like an angel. The whole idea struck him as funny- his dark half, angelic? He began to laugh, very nearly going into hysterics.

Uncharacteristically gentle, Bakura took his chin in one hand, spread his fingers, and slapped him. Ryou stared at him, open-mouthed.

_(Simply Biological)_

Kaiba's eye twitched uncontrollably. He really was developing some sort of tic, he brooded darkly, watching Akefia poke about the room, completely stark naked. He sighed. _'This is kind of awkward,' _came the irritable thought as he once again tugged and adjusted the crotch of his pants, attempting- unsuccessfully- to keep his eyes off those sleekly flexing muscles... among other things. He embraced the morbid amusement that threatened to overcome him. _'Not that it matters- it's not like he'd even notice me looking there,'_ he sulked, _'He's too dense to conceive of the idea of a man being attracted to another man.' _He sighed, slouching and mashing his cheeks in his palms. _'Why are the most attractive ones always straight?' _Akefia's well-toned bottom flexed as he stretched upwards to see into the highest cubby- a good eight feet up, Seto noted with morbid fascination. He groaned and covered his eyes.

Akefia frowned, turning towards him, which, while it was completely precedented and understandable, wasn't helping his smaller companion's state of mind much. "You are sick."

Kaiba's heart stalled in his chest for a moment, and his eyes widened behind the black bars of his fingers. Oh, God, he thought. He had noticed, after all. For a moment, he was overcome with the terrible and crazy urge to laugh, nervous and semi-hysterical. _'It was too much to hope that actions like mine would be commonplace where...'_ he paused, feeling oddly detached. _'...when he came from.'_ The idea struck him funny again, and he let out a nervous titter that was so unlike him that any of his classmates would've stared, slack-jawed. Outwardly, he forced his face into a diffident expression, raising his head from his hands. "I'm afraid I don't quite understand you," he said stiffly.

Akefia narrowed his eyes at him, processing what he had said. Though he spoke Japanese now, thanks to the subtle tweakings of Takashi's mystery machine, he still wasn't educated, and nothing could change that. He spoke with the simplicity of a child, but the brunet suspected he was learning to deduce the meanings of more complex sentences by the manner in which they were spoken. Kaiba blinked, trying to clear his head of distraction. This was a tricky moment; it wasn't a good moment to wander off, even into the lands of adult linguistics.

The white-haired behemoth snorted, and crossed his arms. "You're sick. You need to..." he stood for a moment, struggling for clarity, then continued. "You need to get better."

Seto Kaiba's brain churned with confusion for a moment, puzzled and wanting to decipher what his intimidating cohort had said in the most terrifying way possible. It was only after he stopped and thought about it rationally that the pit of his stomach dropped in relief. _'He means physically. He thinks I'm sick... as in, actually sick.'_ He smirked and shook his head at the impatiently fidgeting giant. "I'm fine, thank you. I'm not sick," he said slowly and clearly. Akefia regarded him with suspicion.

"You sound sick."

He fought down impatience. "Well, I'm not. Let it be, Akefia." The thief blew out through his lips like a belligerent horse.

"No, Kie'bah," he explained with exaggerated patience, "You are sick. Get better. I get you better?" The last sentence was formulated awkwardly, and Kaiba knew Akefia knew it, because, just for an instant, there had been a bewildered annoyance that flitted across his face. The brunet guessed he'd never had difficulty communicating what he wanted before, and Japanese was, after all, a radically different language to Egyptian- even to the modern Arabic Egyptian used then.

"Akefia, I am _not _sick," he said as firmly as possible, trying to recall the days when Mokuba had been young and inquisitive rather then notice the overwhelmingly naked bulk of the man towering over him. Akefia curled his fingers over the delicate bone of Kaiba's jaw, and forced his head upwards.

"Sick," he said, mimicking the brunet's firm tone. "I get you better."

_(Simply Biological)_

Bakura sighed, lounging on the couch. That hadn't gone as planned.

Ryou was out, coping with being wrong- _'And worse,'_ he thought morbidly, _'Proven wrong by me.'_ The thief was fully aware of his lighter half's ideas of his intellect, but the same languid apathy that brought on the assumption tempered the unwillingness to do anything about it. But, in this case, he mused, it was quite possible that it was just difference in the way they thought. Ryou was a clear-cut, factual thinker. For Bakura, who had never been presented with facts, it was all a game of 'what if?'.

And that was what had lead him to the conclusion.

They _had_ been identical. But, like identical twins, they didn't have identical minds; therefore, nor identical actions. And actions, such as lifestyle and eating habits (Ryou was, quite unfortunately- in his standards- a vegetarian) could have massive effects on one's body.

Of course, the thought pattern wasn't quite as complex and detailed as that in Bakura's mind, but that had been what Ryou had responded with- in a tone of something like awe, he smugly received- and it was fine with him if it made sense. His impression had been more of something along the lines of 'but we don't live the same way, blah blah blah'. And now, Ryou was out walking. And hopefully buying groceries.

But as important and scarce as food was at the moment, the thief was fighting the depressing lethargy of the total boredom that only those Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder can quite manage. He fidgeted. A lot.

His fidgeting eventually lead to the demise of the dishwasher.

He swore.

But he wasn't bored anymore.

_(Simply Biological)_

Ryou stood in the produce section, staring absently at the celery. His mind wandered. Today had been... eventful, to put it mildly.

The concept of what Bakura had communicated had been bad enough- the concept that Bakura could come up with it and then communicate it coherently had been shocking. And so, he stared at the celery, trying to come up with some sort of idea of what he was going to do for the rest of his stay in Domino. Suddenly, the thought of going away to school didn't have the same glorious flavour it once did. He sighed, and forced his hands to grip the handle of his shopping cart and continue on.

He stopped, remembering why he had been their in the first place. Ah, yes, he thought. The celery. He picked up a bundle and stared at it. _'What was I doing..?'_

Dreamily, he realized that there were silver sparks dancing on the edge of his vision. He swayed, feeling dizzy and detached.

He never felt the floor hit him.

_(Simple Biological)_

_After-Note: Yeah, this one's much shorter. I hope you don't mind! I was kind of having writer's block. (Forgive me, please!) _


	6. Chapter 6

_**Kiski's Note To Readers:**__ Okay, a tribute to all of you who actually figured out what the hell the silver sparks and the collapsing thing was about. Oh, wait. No one did. Or, at least, nobody bothered to tell me they did._

_God, have you people never passed out before?_

_A tribute to anyone who can figure out what Ryou's symptoms are in this chapter! A hint: Anyone who play contact sports or is incredibly clumsy will know this ooone!_

_**Summary: **__Seto Kaiba is growing increasingly uneasy.__Things are going missing in Kaiba Corp., and all of them seem to be related. Not only that, but strange things are going down in Domino. VERY strange things. Ancient Thief Bakura x Seto Kaiba, Ryou Bakura x Yami No Bakura_

_**Rating: **__Teen, because it's unlikely it'll go beyond that. But there will be perversion, creepiness, violence, anger/hate, angst... etc.. Don't ask me, I don't know._

_I'm just writing it._

_**Disclaimer: **__If I owned it, it would've been so frighteningly morbid they wouldn't have released it in North America. Amen._

'_...' - Thinking_

"..."_ - Speaking_

_**Simply Biological**_

_**KiskiMee**_

_**Chapter Six**_

It was the murmurs he heard first, and it was with a groan that Ryou opened his eyes.

Everything was too bright, too loud, and the colours seemed too intense to be real. His head pounded. His back ached. And, worst of all, he felt like he was boiling to death.

"Honey," someone said, their voice seeming to catch and echo in his soggy brain. "Honey, look at me." He looked at her obligingly, if only to shut her up. She was still blurry, but he had the general impression of dark, curly hair and glasses. She held up two fingers like someone in a movie. "How many fingers am I holding up?" He closed his eyes, resisting the slow-burning desire just to punch her and go back to sleep. "Stay with me!" she said, shaking him. "How many fingers am I holding up?" This time it was three. He opened his mouth, tried to tell her _oh yes bitch it's three fingers now leave me alone I just want to sleep,_ but all he could hear coming out was a strange slurred groaning. "Stay with me!" she ordered him. He made his best effort at giving her the middle finger, but he was '_just so tired_. _Just so fucking tired. Just let me sleep...' _She shook him. He groaned.

Someone yelled something from far away, and he turned eyes that felt like sandpaper in their sockets towards them. He closed his eyes again. It was just too _bright_.

He felt himself drifting back in blackness, despite the efforts of his watcher.

_(Simply Biological)_

His thumb was stroking his collarbone, Kaiba suddenly realized, a little bit dry-mouthed and lot more confused. Akefia's other hand curled around his bad wrist and lifted it gently. He began to peel off the impromptu bandaging.

The brunet protesting, inhaling sharply from the jostling the bruised and blackened hand was undergoing, and the surge of new circulation. He let out a small, breathy squeak through his nose, biting the inside of his cheek. And Akefia's thumb was still stroking his collarbone.

"No," he croaked, coming to himself, "That's not necessary." He gently yanked his hand away, stifling a pained moan. This whole situation was incendiary, he thought. Generally, naked men telling you they're going to fix the pain wasn't a purely innocent thing, but in this case, whether it was or wasn't, he simply couldn't risk becoming entangled in what was currently his most urgent problem. _'Involved,'_ his mind corrected him, and he shot an inward glare at it.

'_No. You become involved with people you are attracted to emotionally. Ake- ...This... thing... has the emotional awareness of a young child. That's not a relationship. That's not involvement. That's pedophilia.'_

His unconscious grumbled angrily at him, and he forced it aside with a grunt, turning his attentions to his problem. "No," he repeated. "It's really not a problem at the moment, but thank you."

Akefia just looked confused and a little belligerent. "It hurts you." He crossed his powerful arms, looking down his the brunet. "I fix."

Kaiba sighed, a) wishing that Takashi had improved the giant's syntax, and b) cursing him for not including the understanding of the word 'no'. Though, he supposed, these were probably difficulties he had had in his first life.

His stomach churned at the thought. Officially, Akefia had been, in a way, resuscitated, and was still living the same life... but having several thousand years between expiration and resuscitation wasn't exactly on par with a half-drowned child, was it? He had been dead. Well, and truly. And, according to what little of Takashi's notes he had managed to read without distraction, he had been partially decomposed, despite the sand-mummification. The whole thing was an anomaly, man-created and not likely to happen again. Unfortunately, that didn't make it any less disturbing.

And he still didn't understand why this particular beast of muscle had been chosen above more recent, more well-preserved specimens. It didn't make sense.

_'Even if I hadn't discovered this… him, Akefia probably would have ripped Takashi's team apart. So why pick him? Why not pick something- someone- smaller, more manageable?' _He snorted lightly, and, pushing back from Akefia's dark, accusing eyes, rose from the desk he had been perching on, and wandered over to the cupboards to rummage. _'The guy must've had one hell of a God-complex,'_ he thought, _'And Akefia? Fuck. In an age where the men didn't grow beyond five foot, he must've been a king.'_

He fingers stilled between a stack of papers and a jumble of junk. He could hear Akefia approaching him, the cold slap of large, flat feet on tile flooring audible. _'Oh God.'_ He stared blindly into the papers, feeling a cold shiver dance over his scalp. He turned around slowly, jerking back into the counter roughly when he discovered how close his scarred companion was. Akefia was watching him narrowly.

Kaiba smiled his public relations smile. Akefia looked suspicious. "Akefia," he started smoothly, attempting to ignore the complete lack of personal space he was being given. "What do you… do?"

Akefia raised his eyebrows. "I don't understand." He stepped closer. Kaiba's upper thighs collided with the top of the counter.

Kaiba kept his P.R. smile, but only barely. "I mean, what's your… job?"

Akefia flared his nostrils, looking partially annoyed, but mostly amused. He straightened and rolled a shoulder back seemingly unaffected by the large, painful sounding 'pop' that came from his shoulder joint. "I take what I like, and I keep it." He was viewing Kaiba through narrowed eyes, and Kaiba had the chilling feelinf he was testing his reactions.

"You steal." It wasn't a question.

"I take what I like. Everything I like… is mine. I take what is mine."

The brunet began to have a terribly forboding feeling that Akefia's logic applied to people. "So… you steal," he insisted, speaking slowly for the benefit of his listener. "You are a thief."

Akefia leant over again, too close for comfort. "I am King of Thieves."

He wanted to back away further, but the counter was already pressed hard into his legs. _'Takashi,'_ he thought,_ 'Your are one crazy motherfucker.'_

_(Simply Biological)_

Bakura almost fell off the couch when the phone rang. He snatched at it, and, barely remembering to push the 'talk' button, brought it to his ear. "What?" he snapped.

_"Um, hello. Is this one of Bakura-san's housemates?" _

The voice on the other end sounded femenine.

"His only," Bakura said grumpily. "What do you want?"

She coughed uncomfortably at his rudeness. _"Sir, Bakura-san has had an accident. As soon as he awoke, he asked for you. Can you come to the hospital?"_

Bakura's anger stilled along with the rest of his body. "Can I walk?" he asked urgently. "What kind of accident?"

She seemed confused. _"Um, I suppose. I mean, I guess you could walk. But, um… We're on the corner of-"_

"I know where you are, woman," he snapped impatiently. "What _kind _of accident?"

_"We believe it was some sort of fainting spell, sir, brought on by malnutrition. It's really not very serius. However, I'm going to need to ask you a few questions about Bakura-san's eati-"_

Bakura hung up and ran for the door.

_(Simply Biological)_

Why couldn't they just let him sleep?!

Ryou felt exhausted. He just wanted to close his eyes, maybe drift off for a couple seconds, but they kept shaking him and asking stupid questions, and _God, all he wanted was a little __**sleep**_. He tried to close his eyes again, but one of the nurses began to pull his shoulder lightly. He threw a squinty glare in her direction.

He wanted to roll away, but he couldn't. Even more than that, he wanted water. "Where's Bakura?" he croaked petulantly. Bakura would let him sleep, and give him water. He knew that.

Everything was heavy and slow, but too bright and too loud to be comfortable. The nurse was shaking him again. He wanted to bite her.

Sudden noise assaulted him, and he rolled his head towards. It became suddenly welcome as whiteness filled his vision, even if it was more than slightly blinding. "Bakura," he smiled groggily, and closed his eyes. Bakura grabbed his shirtfront and pulled him roughly into a sitting position.

Ryou let out a barely audible noise of protest, feeling betrayed. He could feel the linen sliding under his buttocks and legs, and began to squirm in Bakura's arms. Bakura, obviously paying no mind, picked him up, bridal-style.

Bakura looked at him. "Stop struggling. I'm taking you home. You hit your head." He began to mutter something about clumsy dogs.

Ryou could hear the nurses squawking in startlement and disapproval as his hero shouldered his way out of the room. He cuddled close into the other boy's chest and closed his eyes. Bakura pinched him.

Hard.

He squinted upward, uncomprehending.

Today was going to be a long day, it seemed.

_(Simply Biological)_

Akefia was perfectly aware that he was standing very close to his smaller companion, but not nearly as aware as he was of the way Kie'bah was chewing his lip in unconscious nervousness.

He was nervous, but belligerent and maybe just a little bit prone to want control- _'Authority'_ he thought- and Akefia liked that. His eyes flickered to his companion's fingers, assessing the damage those delicate, meticulous nails could inflict.

Kaiba saw him looking, and despite the differences in the way a world-class ancient thief and a modern, up-and-coming businessman think, there has been very little in the way of change in mankind's sexual cues.

Kaiba felt mild panic beginning to sink the pit of his stomach. The situation was no longer in his control, he thought, looking up at Akefia's face in an attempt not to notice more, ah, 'pressing' matters below. Noticing that looking up didn't make much of an improvement, he turned away. The counter was fairly deep, he noted, and the possibility of jumping up and getting around Akefia probably better then the prospect of staying put.

_'This situation cannot escalate'_, he told himself firmly, feeling sweat break out on his back at the thief's proximity. Making his decision to jump the counter, however unlikely the chance of a complete escape with no ill-effects, he put his good hand down on the cold metal.

The hand that curled around his waist and between his thighs stopped him. Feeling heat flush his face, Kaiba jerked quickly around, feeling more and more as though things were spiraling horribly out of anything even _resembling_ control. "Akefia, _no_," he told him sternly, pushing him away.

Unfortunately, the concept of both 'no' and 'away' seemed to escape Kaiba's supposed 'admirer'. All that changed was that he could now see the expression on the thief's face, and that he had opened an entirely new avenue for assault on his person. He turned back around, rubbing his face with his hand, and vaulted onto the counter.

Or, at least, his intention was to vault onto the counter. He ended up rather inconveniently bent over it. A large, rough hand was running up under his shirt and along his side, broad thumb rubbing the protruding bumps of his spine with just enough pressure to keep him down. He felt another hand rest on his hip, and groaned.

'_Oh… well, fuck.' _

_(Simply Biological)_

_After-Note: Hrm… sketch. Even I'm starting to feel a little bad for our wonderful older Kaiba brother, even if he is a grump and has it coming. But still… does it count as rape if he enjoys it…?_

_And Ryou's so damn adorable, even when he's angry and concussed._


End file.
